Post by Hazunyan on May 3, 2017 16:06:50 GMT -5

Things had taken a convenient turn for Hazuki in the short time since she had been appointed head of the Public Safety Office. Nagisa had returned from her reconnaissance mission to Hueco Mundo and confirmed what everyone already knew, the half-breed she had deliberately placed in the center of attention had buckled under the pressure and fled, and there had been reports of other, similarly afflicted individuals deserting. It was almost too convenient, but Hazuki certainly wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth; if the half-breed scum wanted to paint a target on their backs and leave then she wasn’t going to stop them—if she could have her way they’d all be shipped to Hueco Mundo en masse anyway. Exile wasn’t execution but it was an acceptable compromise. Taboo was deplorable, but even she had a difficult time motivating anything harsher than sending them away from Seireitei forever. The death penalty was something best reserved for those who had truly forsaken everything that made them a Shinigami.

She looked up from Nagisa’s report, drinking in the sight of her domain: the Public Safety Office Headquarters. She had gotten precisely what she had asked for, a relatively small team of dedicated individuals and some repurposed buildings not far from the First’s compound, and though her endeavor was still in its earliest stages, Seireitei seemed to be benefiting from its new dedicated police force. It wasn’t perfect—not yet—but she was getting there.

She sighed, setting down the file and getting to her feet, hand automatically falling to the steel emblem at her waist as she turned to the window at her back and gazed out over Seireitei. The view wasn’t exactly what she would call breathtaking: she had specifically requested something humble for the PSO’s first lodgings and humble was precisely what she had received, but being this close to the center of Seireitei still imparted a sense of gravitas. This upstart little organization of hers was crammed between some of the oldest, most revered structures in Seireitei, and it was impossible for that not to factor in somehow.

She remained still for a few moments, her cold grey eyes following the bustle with muted interest, then turned back to her desk. She had the information, it was time to act on it. Kasumi had given her a carte blanche and Hazuki wasn’t going to let it go to waste. She swept past her desk, picking up Sakurazuki and slipping the sword into her obi, the familiar weight bringing a faint smile to Hazuki’s lips. It was the satisfaction of meeting and old friend, of embracing a family member, of looking in the mirror and seeing yourself grinning back—it felt like being whole, somehow, and ever since her odyssey had reached its conclusion she had been secure in the knowledge that no matter what she did or where she went, her Zanpakutō would be there for her.

She ordered one of her subordinates to inform Kasumi that she was heading to Hueco Mundo, then made her way toward the First’s Senkaimon, where she carefully filled out the gate request along with the desired coordinates. The surprise on the attending Shinigami’s face was obvious, but he didn’t say anything—whether it was out of fear or respect Hazuki couldn’t say, nor did she particularly care. The Senkaimon opened without incident, and she held out her finger for the Hell Butterfly which alighted moments later, then she set off.

This was the first time Hazuki had ever set foot in Hueco Mundo, and she wasn’t quite sure what to expect—her father had mentioned it once or twice but tended to stay on the quiet side whenever it was brought up—but soon enough she stepped out of the Senkaimon and onto the fine white sand of the desert realm of the Hollows. Solitude seemed to radiate from every direction, and she frowned at the expanse of dunes that stretched out in front of her. She had specifically requested—

Then she turned around, and the monstrosity that was Las Noches bore down menacingly on her. Wherever she looked, the massive castle occupied her field of vision, and it was difficult not be awestruck by its sheer grandiosity. Perspective itself seemed warped in its presence, such was its size, but when all was said and done it was difficult for her to feel anything but a wan loathing of it. This was the Hollow mindset in a nutshell: all bluster and no substance. It was a big castle, and that was all it was.

She began her trek towards the massive doors—further away than they looked—but in time she arrived without incident, wondering how someone of her size might open something this large, but the answer came to her as readily as any other.

She was not Nagisa Chinda; there was need for neither stealth nor subtlety here. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and reached for Sakurazuki slowly and deliberately, the soft silk of the sword’s hilt in sharp contrast to the harsh rasping of the blade being drawn.

Whatever it was, it was quick: a flash of light catching the edge of the blade and a powerful step forward, then the door exploded inwards as Hazuki’s spiritual pressure thundered across the dunes, echoing off the massive walls of the castle before her. If anyone had missed her arrival, then they were aware of her now.

Sword still in hand, she strode through the hole she had made and eventually came to what looked a great deal like a throne room. It was empty, but then Hazuki’s sixth sense wasn’t as finely tuned as some of her peers. She stopped only for a moment to drink it in, then made for the throne, whispering a command under her breath as she went.

The deafening roar of her reiatsu intensified further, her blade now leaving a trail of bright red behind her as she approached the dais, but she seemed to pay it no mind. She ascended to the throne, turned, and daintily sat herself on it, straight-backed and regal with one foot tucked behind the other and her sword point down in front of her. Princess, her father had used to call her. Since then, she had grown.

Post by Eve Avana on May 7, 2017 15:49:56 GMT -5

Somewhere close to the northern entrance, though not quite in sight of it, Eve leaned against the outside of the dome, arms crossed and chin tilted downwards. Granted, she couldn’t actually see what she was glaring at, but did that really matter when you had the majority of your people had decided to come pacifists? La Colonia. Even the name made her almost want to vomit. Not that she’d actually say that.

Or had the spine to say it to someone’s face, her spirit chided with an annoying amount of happiness.

Once or twice, a comment like that earned a not so healthy argument between the two who acted more like sibling rivals than actual partners. Such an argument would have lasted hours, leaving Eve red faced and thoroughly flabbergasted by the point Samyaza’s counters had devolved into nothing more than “no you”. On a particularly good day, that would have forced Jezebel from her dark, brooding corner who would then hit them both across the head until they quit their bickering and left each other alone.

To say Eve was even remotely in tune with her Shinigami side, even to this day, was a vast understatement. But, despite this, she was the local Shinigami sent to spy among the Hollow and ruin whatever security they had. Her ascension to the throne was nothing more than for the Seireitei to puppet Las Noches yet again.

Because that made total sense.

If her train of thought hadn’t been interrupted, maybe she would have gotten to the point that she just decided to seal La Colonia in a slowly shrinking black coffin until it was snuffed out of existence. But not today, it seemed.

Her mind’s eye flicked somewhere to the east as a particularly ostentatious door opened and let out an even more obnoxious soul. It was times like these that decisions were made. She could just walk away. Who was in there to save? What good would it do for her to rush in like a hero and save the people who hated her?

It’s the right thing to do, Jezebel sighed, just as annoyed with the turn of events as Eve was. You know it. I know it. We all know it.

Near that eastern door, a distant rumble echoed, followed by the dome itself shuddering in pain.

Or, whatever, fuck it. Let Kionchi die. I think he’s in there, isn’t he? The Inner Hollow continued. You know, like, the only person who gives a damn about you now.

Except us! Samyaza found her turn to chime in, though it added nothing more to the conversation.

“Fine, fine,” Eve groaned as she pushed herself from the dome and spun on her heel.

Without a second thought, the wall before her fell in on itself, tiny streams of electricity dancing between the shattered bricks as they toppled to the ground unceremoniously.

Some time after Hazuki so elegantly placed herself upon the throne, the doors slid open and revealed the stand in Queen. Sword at her side, tucked away as if there was no cause for alarm.

“Ah,” Eve was quick to speak, “you’re that girl from my execution.” Her tone was flat, maybe even uninterested. “I don’t think I caught your name back then.”

The Vaizard tilted her head down and bowed ever so slightly, though never broke eye contact. Perhaps somewhere nearby, Kionchi was watching, writhing in annoyance as she so easily bent the knee to the enemy.

“Eve Avana,” she said plainly as her lips twitched into probably the world’s worst fake smile ever made in the history of ever. “Former Segunda, creator of the current wave of Vaizards, and now Queen of Las Noches.”

Post by Hazunyan on May 7, 2017 20:10:08 GMT -5

At first, Hazuki said nothing. The other woman’s words echoed faintly in the cavernous throne room, but eventually silence settled once more as the Shinigami slowly sized up the queen.

She recognized her, of course—Hazuki had got a good long look at her before the features had melted away to something a little more familiar the last time they had met, but that meeting had been cut short. Shun’s woefully misguided penchant for the dramatic had turned what should have been a straightforward task into a circus, and although it had ended in success—more or less—it had been reason enough to put the Fourth behind her.

Hazuki did not return the smile, feigned or not. Instead, she pursed her lips, her cold grey eyes boring into the woman whose seat she was occupying as she considered the situation. The last time they had encountered one another the unmistakeable stench of Hollow had lingered around Avana like a veil, but standing before her now was a Shinigami. In itself, that wasn’t a problem—Shinigami or not, this woman was an enemy of Seireitei and would be treated as such—but an idle curiosity lingered at the back of Hazuki’s mind at the apparent change. Hazuki couldn’t help but liken her to Rania.

Rania, of course, knew where she belonged: in Seireitei, among the rest of her kind.

‘Queen,’ said Hazuki, still seated. Rivulets of Sakurazuki’s petals streamed down the keen edge of the longsword, evaporating before they had a chance to pool where the tip met the chalky white stone.

‘Queen,’ she repeated, as if tasting the word. ‘Does the rest of Hueco Mundo know that? I can’t help but notice your court is a little...’ She made a dismissive sort of gesture with her off-hand.

‘Empty.’

Now, at last, she rose to her feet, Sakurazuki’s blade hissing as she flicked it to one side, leaving a long arc of pinkish-red in front of her.

‘In fact, I don’t think you’re a queen at all,’ she continued, sword outstretched to one side as she took one step, two steps, three steps down from the dais and advanced on the woman in front of her. She moved slowly and purposefully, her spiritual pressure pulsating out ahead of her, invisible currents tracing swirls in the inky clouds.

Hazuki stopped just out of range—a step forward and a slash would be all it took to bifurcate this would-be royalty, and then she smiled. It was a cruel and mirthless smile, one of satisfaction rather than joy.

‘You’re bait.’

Almost lazily, she stepped forward and swatted at her with the flat of her Zanpakutō, intent on gauging her reaction. She didn’t expect much.

Post by Kionchi on May 9, 2017 14:55:01 GMT -5

There was no better word to describe that constant annoying hum than oppressive. When Kionchi first arrived in Las Noches, he was met with a world of freedom and possibility. But now every corner of the palace rang of the same repulsive hypocrisy slowly building right outside its walls. Where once there were lifeless ruins filled to the brim with tortured souls tearing one another from limb to limb, struggling to evolve and become something greater, there was now this city of idle waste claiming refuge for the refuse satisfied with Sloth.

To think of all the Aspects I've confronted and nurtured here, his face twisted into a disgusted scowl.

He stood and opened his eyes, his meditation ruined by the sudden welling of anger. To think he'd finally escaped the Seireitei, and now the beasts he once romanticized were scrambling to emulate the worst of the Gotei. His senses pulled in, refusing to further scan the alleys and passageways of La Colonia. There was no hope for the hollow there. And as he strolled out of his room, draping the haori of the First over his shoulders, he couldn't help but give a guttural growl at the sound of his door echoing down the empty halls. It was about time for their daily briefing, and he was tired of waiting for La Colonia to collapse on its own.

...Shit.

His eyes opened wide as he drew his zanpakuto and vanished, signature racing across the castle toward the throne room. He was so concerned with his own meddling that he didn't notice the intruder until now. Each second that passed he could feel the queen's signature inch closer and closer. It was that bitch who attacked Mirabelle, he was sure of it. And it felt like she had come alone. He'd have laughed if Eve wasn't in there with her. A more capricious Kionchi might have even gone in disguised as Tokiyo or Shun. But given who it was it would have been a wasted effort: He wasn't about to let his prey leave the palace alive.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," An instant later the Fox appeared between them, his sheath in one hand blocking Hazuki's sword. His zanpakuto in the other already released in smooth obsidian. "But we aren't accepting new applications at this time."

“Go on," his eyes narrowed as he stared into hers, a single slash of his sword intending to dissect the pest in half, “Shoo.”

Post by Eve Avana on May 9, 2017 16:00:30 GMT -5

"Apparently democracy is all the rage these days," Eve quipped with no shortage of amusement. "Just when you think things can't get worse, the youth steps up."

Nothing about Eve changed as the Shinigami approached. She just reclined on her heels ever so slightly and tilted her head curiously, as if to be surprised that Hazuki's sword was even drawn. Her eyes flicked between the oozing sword and the unimpressive gaze of the woman once or twice before she leaned back on her heels once more.

Bait. Like that needed to even be said at this point. Stowing away a criminal and hoping that the Seireitei would just "forget about it" was never even humored. Countless nights of feverish nightmares plagued her and ensured she was more than ready for the confrontation to arise.

As the blur of Kionchi's figure came into focus, Eve fell back a step of two lazily and drug a hand up to her face. With a couple fingers placed atop her nose, her mask began to form. Branching out from her finger tips and fanning out in an array of feathers, the mask was an all too painful reminder of her days harboring Wishes' bad sense of humor and overly flashy demeanor. Even the way the bone-like feathers were tinted with various hues of the rainbow screamed "I'm a snowflake!"

Eve was convinced he had done this on purpose.

Her Inner Hollow grumbled a few rather vulgar words at being torn out for no reason at all, but otherwise complied. For now, at least. The redheaded child bore down on Eve's soul, crushing it slowly as she tried to calm the girl into submission with gentle promises of it being quick. Jezebel never listened, but at least seemed to humor the idea of seeing where things went.

"Fancy meeting you here, Kionchi," Eve said ever so calmly, flashing him a smile as if Hazuki wasn't there. "Have you gotten faster?"

Post by Hazunyan on May 9, 2017 16:36:17 GMT -5

As if on a schedule, her half-hearted swing was intercepted before it got anywhere near the other girl. As if on a schedule, the lame one-liner that all but announced the timid insecurities, a pathetic attempt at throwing Hazuki’s own words back at her. She made a little noise at the back of her throat as her blade twisted and sliced through the flimsy wooden scabbard as if it weren’t even there, darted across to the opposite side where Hazuki effortlessly stopped her opponent’s cut single-handed.

Her lip peeled back off her teeth, exposing her perfect white teeth in what could almost have been a snarl—and perhaps would have, had it not looked so... Satisfied. She was grinning. The sound she had made was not one of exertion. It had been a soft chuckle.

The woman was all but a distant memory at this point, something secondary. Hazuki would get to that in due time. The newcomer’s long, greasy hair barely had time to settle before Hazuki’s other hand had found Sakurazuki’s hilt, and with a blow that would have torn a hole straight through Sōkyōku Hill, her blade surged sideways. It was almost as though she was intentionally mocking the man in front of her, as if to tell him no, no, this is how you perform that cut as she stepped into the motion with immaculate form, her eyes positively radiating with the pink glow of her reiatsu as she aimed to sever his legs from his torso.

This was the man who had deluded himself into thinking he would take up the mantle of Commander. He was still wearing the haori that he had escaped with, and it took all of Hazuki’s self-control to stop herself bursting into laughter as she recalled his final words in front of the crowd:

Lick your wounds.

He had been judged, and found wanting. Guilty on all counts. And so ended the long and overly protracted tale of the sad mutt.

°331

So! Since I have no intention whatsoever of allowing you to take the same """creative liberties""" you took last time, I’m going to spell it all out for you:

This is a 190-Strength cut executed with Grandmaster Zanjutsu. Both you and Evelynn top out at 150 of any stat right now, and neither of you have anything higher than Master. I’m even going to go ahead and say that I’d be willing to—given your Shikai’s ability—count an invocation of its power as Master Zanjutsu. I flatly refuse to allow you to release your Mask or your Bankai and parry my attack in the same action (you’re free to release either, of course, but then you’ll be taking the full brunt of my attack head-on, which I really cannot recommend).

This means that no matter what, this is a Superior blow at minimum, which means the resulting wound is reduced by a single rank in severity. Since you’ve got 50 Defense and I’ve got 190 Strength, that’s a difference of 140, which would be enough to put Hazuki’s strike in a category above Dominant if such a category existed. Since it doesn’t, it’s a Fatal wound reduced to a Severe wound, which means I’ve just severed both your legs from your body. On top of that, you’re getting a pretty fucking massive dose of Sakurazuki’s Petals, the effects of which I leave to you, but consider the fact that I have Master Zanpakutō Resonance.

I hope you weren’t too attached to your legs, because they’re certainly not attached to you! I look forward to reading your reply.

edit oh and any attempt at another sad intervention by jian in order to save your skin will be met first with a formal invasion complaint and most likely an equal and opposite invasion from someone on my side so I advise you don't waste your time

Post by Kionchi on May 9, 2017 19:41:17 GMT -5

You were going to show her how much you've grown?

The thought was just a blip as he winced at the pain of his katana splitting into countless quasi-copies. He could see his mother's eyes in the blades for just a moment, reality slowing down as he let his zanpakuto decide the only perfect counter to Hazuki's deft attack. Unfortunately, in the face of overwhelming odds, even the best defense can come crashing down.

I was going to-

Her sword shattered his glass katana with barely any resistance, the zanpakuto cleaving his legs clean off as the gears in his mind suddenly came to a screeching halt. All the possible counter-attacks he had planned were wiped away with that single dash of her zanpakuto, his torso soaring through the air as he spun to look up at his mother's eyes. Maybe it'd be enough to give her an edge, raised for this one decisive moment? Had the thought occurred to him it might have given him some amount of comfort, blood spewing from his open mouth as he cried out silently to an unforgiving fate. The only mercy allowed the numbing of Hazuki's zanpakuto. The only word in his head as he fell to the ground:Failure.

Post by Eve Avana on May 12, 2017 13:33:52 GMT -5

“What the actual fuck, Kionchi?” She said it softly at first as the realization sunk in.

By the time his legs clamored to the ground and his back thudded against the pale wall behind her, she noticed it. Rather, noticed the lack of “it.” No mask, no unbridled burst of energy she had come to associate with Bankai. Nothing. Was he even in Shikai? Everything had happened so quickly and she knew so little about it to begin with.

“Kionchi!” She gasped as she turned to face him. A half step forward suggested maybe she would fall to his side, but instead she stopped herself and gave him a wide-eyed, baffled glare.

“Where the hell is your mask?” She half turned and flung her arms to the side as if she could actually gesture to his stupidity. “Are you even in Bankai? Like… What did you…?” She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Her hands fell to her hips, shoulders falling forward in disappointment as if she wasn’t in the midst of a fight. Slowly, she shook her head and sighed even louder before looking him over. This was her best Vaizard? The one she had worked so hard on. The one she had so thoroughly convinced to love her like she was some sort of mom to him.

This is what she had to prove for all of her hard work?

“You knew someone like her was coming, right?” She continued with a gesture to the still waiting Hazuki. “Like, this didn’t come out of left field, did it? Please tell me it did. Please tell me you were just… somehow so thoroughly ignorant to this that it justifies you not even being in Bankai?"

She paused, as if giving him a chance to plead his case, but quickly decided against it.

“Okay, maybe I can understand,” she said as she held up a hand to silence what ever sort of babbling he might have been trying to make. “It’s two versus one, right? Maybe that stroked your ego, but like… c’mon, man. I thought you were smarter than this.”

She stared down hard at Kionchi as his lips parted and moved, air barely rushing past them as he fought to stay awake. For a second, they searched each other’s eyes and, perhaps in his delirious state he thought he saw a bit of worry for him in her hardened stare, but Eve didn’t say anything more directly at him. Instead, she jerked her chin away and glared hard at nothing in particular -- not even Hazuki who still stood there patiently.

“This is how you were supposed to do it,” she finished up as she pivoted to fully face her opponent this time. “Bankai.”

Her hand whipped out the short sword in tandem with her command. From the blade grew a weave of wood that spiraled down and around it entirely before shaping itself into a staff. By the time she lowered it to the ground, a series of tribal etches marked their way all along the staff and began to glow a faint yellow that wasn’t too dissimilar from the color of her eyes.

What little complaint came from Jezebel was silenced in a hurry by Eve’s Inner Spirit. Despite being having the world record for the thickest skull, it seemed the Inner Hollow agreed that, at the very least, now wasn’t a time for arguing.

Eve tilted her head at Hazuki and smiled sweetly.

“Excuse me, princess,” she said as if that 'conversation' with Kionchi had never happened. “This is my castle and I don’t remember inviting you here. Now, could you please take your trash and leave?” She shoved a thumb in Kionchi’s direction. “It’s really starting to stink up the place.”

Post by Hazunyan on May 12, 2017 17:07:01 GMT -5

There was blood everywhere, intermingled with the syrupy petals of Hazuki’s Zanpakutō, and she couldn’t help but be pleased with herself. The haori the mutt had stolen had been shredded from the difference in air pressure and it looked almost like a single bloodied wing as the traitor’s body sailed through the air and landed with a grisly sound of meat hitting a hard surface. Now, at last, her attention shifted ever so slightly to include the other woman in the room once more; her primary target was down for the count but her work was not yet finished.

With a menacing purpose in her step, she advanced on the bifurcated half-breed, sword low and dripping once more as she raised her free hand to her lips, one finger extended in the universal sign for hush.

‘Shhhh,’ she murmured, not taking her eyes off what remained of the wretch lying in a rapidly expanding pool of his own blood. ‘It’s not your turn quite yet.’

Unfazed by the eruption of spiritual pressure from the other woman, Hazuki continued to advance until at last she arrived in front of her handiwork. A moment passed, and then her sword flicked out, dispensing final justice.

You have been found guilty of treason, sedition, reckless endangerment, and attempted murder. The sentence is death.

Hazuki had never killed another Shinigami before, but it didn’t fill her with revulsion—rather a renewed sense of purpose. It had to be this way, and no other. It was a clean cut, surgical, and with a dull thud and faint splash the severed head landed face down in the blood, spattering Hazuki’s white tabi with fine droplets of red. She paid it no mind. Case closed. From somewhere inside her uniform she produced a small sheaf of photos and scattered them on what remained of the body; she wouldn’t need them any longer. Framed by the white square margins, Mirabelle Bonnet’s broken form stared painfully into nothingness. It had been a good idea. Pity she hadn’t found a use for them in the end. Oh well.

Onto the next.

She turned away from the rapidly cooling corpse and faced the other half-breed, who had wisely decided to tap into every single reserve of power available to her. To Hazuki, it seemed almost as though she was hiding behind that mask. As though she was cowering behind her Bankai. There was something ethereal about her edges; as if another body was being superimposed on hers, but it was hazy, wisplike. A faded, blurry photo. A far cry from what Hazuki had snaked her arm around the back of to finish the job all that time ago on Sōkyōku Hill.

‘I think you’re mistaken,’ she replied, eyeing the other girl cooly, able to separate the multiple forms she seemed to inhabit with little difficulty. ‘This isn’t your castle anymore. It’s mine, and so is everything in it. And I will do with it—and you—as I please.’

She took a long, steady breath, then let it all out in a soft whisper:

‘Bankai.’

A pregnant pause, expectant. As if a wind-up toy’s spring had simply failed to unravel after it had been placed on the ground. Nothing changed. The sky above them was still as blue as a Monet painting, and the gentle seaside breeze that gusted through the throne room still teased Hazuki’s long and silky hair. The little red hardcover in her left hand was still open, pages edged in gold leaf, and she recited a passage to the faceless crowd that had gathered around them.

‘How doth the little crocodileImprove his shining tail,And pour the waters of the NileOn every shining scale!

She closed the book with a snap to thunderous applause, until at last she raised her hand, the book nowhere to be seen. The immediate silence was deafening: a pin could have dropped and everyone would have heard it. Hazuki spoke.

‘I never did introduce myself, no. My name is Hazuki Tsukimiya.’

A cheer from the crowd, and the vines creeping up the pillars burst into full bloom, the large white petals ringed in red. The sun shone just a fraction brighter and glinted off the emblem on her waist and the sword in her hand. All of creation celebrated her, and pushed back a little harder against the little circle of filth that the half-breed woman radiated like some disease.

The corpse was gone. Perhaps it had never been there at all.

‘And this is how you’ll die.’

°777

There is no nation of you, there is no nation of meOur only nation lives in lucid dreamsLucid dreams, I’m livin’ in lucid dreamsI’m livin’ on shortwave streams tonight

Post by Eve Avana on May 15, 2017 10:47:09 GMT -5

"Big talk for a little girl," Eve scoffed a little as she leaned against her staff.

Her left leg kicked up to beat her toes against the ground to an unheard beat. Eyes drifting to take in the crowd once more, she wondered how so many people could be so interested in someone as boring looking at Miss Tsukimiya. More importantly, they were so confident in the girl's abilities that they had just strolled into the castle, knowing she'd protect them. Now that she had really taken the time to think about it, the sight reminded her of a particularly snide, animated character and his cheerleaders in a certain show she had watched not too long ago.

True to her heritage, Eve had half a mind to cut through the lot of them if only to silence their awe.

With a soft push off from her staff, Eve straightened her posture. Her eyes flicked back to the sweet, little princess and then began to mumble a few choice words. The silence caught a few words and, maybe, if anyone listening knew their Kidou, they'd know just what spell the incantation was. She let the final word or two drag out a hair longer just so she could raise up her hand and lazily flick her fingers in the direction of the Reaper.

"Hadou number 88," she said with sudden force, her voice bellowing over that of the crowd who cheered so happily for their Queen. "Hiryu Gekizoku Shinten Raihou!"

The moment the command was shouted, a single bolt of electricity shot out straight for Hazuki. From that singular bolt erupted white and blue flames that scorched the surrounding area with little effort. The sun, once brilliant and smiling down on them, paled in comparison to the unholy blast that was expelled from Eve's hand. The crackle and sizzle of petals burning accented the roar of the Hadou that soon consumed everything in Eve's line of sight. From within the flames, smaller explosions shot out and stained the surroundings with their dark smoke. Each time a bolt of lightning found purchase of any sort, it, too, erupted into another funnel of flames and debris.

From the sidelines, the crowd gasped before being consumed by the fire and the flames that sought to destroy anything and everything in its wake. The shuffled back, some maybe even getting caught in the hungry flames, but still kept their attention on the young Reaper.

Post by Hazunyan on May 15, 2017 15:42:12 GMT -5

With a playful glint in her eye, Hazuki raised her sword, the labyrinthine inlays in Sakurazuki’s tsuba glinting in the sunlight as the lightning bolt raced toward her, igniting everything in its path. Like her mother and father, she didn’t put much stock in the Demon Arts—they were cheap parlor tricks, illusions at best. The Hadō struck the tip of her blade and Hazuki put her weight into it, pushing forward as the electricity crackled along the length of the blade, rebounding off the dull black oval at its end before the detonations hit, singing the tips of Hazuki’s hair and bathing the throne room in acrid smoke eddying in the sea breeze, which blew a little harder, forcing the smoke up and out toward the picturesque sky.

A murmur from the crowd, somehow unscathed, and Hazuki’s lowered her sword again, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, exposing the birthmark below her left eye.

‘Big talk indeed,’ she replied, crinkling her nose at the lingering copper-and-gunpowder smell of the Hadō, ‘and yet here we are, a repeat of the last time we crossed paths.’

Somewhere off to either side of the half-breed, a low rumbling started to emanate from the ground, laced with the sharp cracks of stone breaking. The great pillars that lined the hall were trembling, dust and debris trickling down from where they held up the parts of the ceiling that hadn’t yet given way to the beautiful blue sky.

‘I didn’t like the way Minamoto decided to handle things at your execution; it was in poor taste, having you chained up to a post like that. Shinigami don’t execute Hollow-breeds, we purify them. It’s a form of mercy.’

The rumbling intensified, the pillars practically shaking at this point, and Hazuki continued, the crowd silent as the grave once more.

‘But then you went and did something stupid. I don’t know how you did it, nor do I particularly care to know, but you switched sides. You abandoned that one shot of mercy in favor of becoming a disgusting half-breed, and now, just like with that other mongrel, I’m going to finish what I started and bring your severed head back to Seireitei with me so I can mount it on a spike for all to see. As a reminder of what happens when you flirt with taboo.’

Finally, the pillars shook loose, bringing with them clouds of debris and chunks of the ceiling, the gargantuan stone blocks tipping over and falling straight at the other woman in long, ponderous arcs. Above them, a large crack appeared in the sky, crisscrossing it from one horizon to the next, but it seemed to hold—for now. The half-breed had more pressing concerns.

°458

There is no nation of you, there is no nation of meOur only nation lives in lucid dreamsLucid dreams, I’m livin’ in lucid dreamsI’m livin’ on shortwave streams tonight

Post by Eve Avana on May 19, 2017 10:37:19 GMT -5

Shadows danced over Evelynn, cast by the overwhelming light of her Hadō. They flashed over her over and across the floor behind her. The wave roared loud enough to completely silence the crowd, at least to Eve’s ears. The crackling of electricity and high-pitched screeching that followed, reminiscent of metal being torn apart through brute force, broke through the storm of noise just a second later.

Aimed straight at the incoming wave of spiritual power, the tip of Hazuki’s sword split open the blast leveled at her. The energy of the spell broke off in every direction, like water bearing down against a boulder, and dragged scars through the ground around them. Tendrils of the broken magic even tore through the crowd behind the Shinigami. Seconds later, the last energy from the blast fizzled out and left the sickly-sweet odor of a recent fire in the air. The crowd behind Hazuki slowly revealed itself as the smoke cleared.

Every single person stood completely unharmed, as if the spell hadn’t ripped right through the group just moments before.

Golden eyes stared on from behind Evelynn’s broken mask, searching the crowd for some proof of her attack. Her mind ticked like rusted gears as she tried to comprehend the things she just witnessed and barely heard Hazuki prattle on.

“You know what I think?” Eve lazily turned her attention back to the Reaper. She almost needed to shout to get over the louder-and-louder rumble that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. Any distraction to give her mind just a little longer to put an idea together, she welcomed. Then, that idea evolved to include a spell she knew all too well -- someone unimportant from her past used it often.

Maybe now that person would finally come through for her. The thought put a smile on her face, hidden by the bony mask that weighed heavier by the moment.

“You'd make a wonderful Vaizard yourself,” she finished her statement with a chuckle. "I can see it in those dead eyes of yours."

Above her head, as if signaled by her words, the pillars around them shattered. Massive, heavy chunks of stone started to rain down all around them. Dust and debris followed in pursuit. She tilted her chin upwards and watched as they tumbled unnaturally, as if gravity was slacking at its job. Yet another oddity that Eve added to her list. None of it felt real to her, like she stumbled into a child’s fantasy playground.

She eyed the falling debris for no longer than a moment before her eyes flicked back to Hazuki. Her smile lifted just a hair more. Around her, the stone and cobble of the once immaculate castle pooled around her feet and somehow cut through her body. As if she wasn't there, it all toppled to the floor with a cacophonous roar that shook the remaining foundation.

"Cute game you're playing here," she quipped with a distorted chuckle. "I'm pretty big on illusions and mind fucks myself, you know."

But that was neither here nor there.

She inhaled a sharp breath and tightened her grip on her staff. The emblems and markings burning with golden flames as she took a half step forward. The rubble all around her didn't even budge, as if she were a ghost in this fairy tale world.

“Seeping crest of turbidity,” her voice hissed between clenched teeth and her mask. The bone cracked on her face as she spoke and the twinned voices wavered as she continued. “Arrogant vessel of lunacy! Boil forth and deny! Grow numb and flicker! Disrupt sleep! Crawling queen of iron! Eternally self-destructing doll of mud! Unite! Repulse!”

Around Hazuki’s feet, a violet, glowing square formed. It looked as though as someone had inked it onto the floor with the tip of a brush and turned brighter by the second. Each side laid well out of reach of Hazuki’s sword.

Considering the gravity well this spell was about to create in the center, Eve hoped it would stay that way.

“Fill with soil and know your own powerlessness!” The corners of her mask crumbled and lost their color, revealing small portions of her face.

Each side of the squared erupted skywards and formed four walls that quickly blocked Eve’s sight of the Shinigami huntress. Out of each wall jutted cross-like spikes that quickly inflated in size as the spell continued to rise higher. Even Evelynn herself, well outside the box that sprung into place before her very eyes, felt the pull to the center that it generated.

“Hadō Number Ninety!” Evelynn shouted at the top of her lungs as the bottom portion of her mask caved and fell from her face. Her eyes glowed with desperation as she watched the ceiling form and the prison slam shut with a thunderous finality.

She should have been more interested in the way Hazuki so easily cut through a high level Hadou, but instead her eyes drifted towards the crowd. Unphased, uninterested, unharmed. They stood there as if nothing happened -- as if they hadn't been hit with a spell strong enough to level entire cities.

Slowly, her eyes slid back over to Hazuki as the light of the spell died out and all that remained was the snide comments. Something, something, execution. Something, something, mercy.

"Hey, I didn't choose the Vaizard life," she was quick to shoot back. "The Vaizard life chose me. Besides, if I had it my way, I'd still be an Arrancar, but... Ah..."

The train of thought vanished instantly. What was she trying to remember, again? Something about someone doing something to her? She pinched her eyebrows together and glanced to the shaking ceiling.

"Well, I guess it wasn't that important," she mumbled mostly to herself. "I don't remember the details."

She gave the thought a half shrug and then looked back to Hazuki. Just as she did, what remained of the structure around her toppled. A split second decision was made. She could have easily just swung her staff in the air and turn all the rubble to smoke -- maybe even flowers if she wanted to be flashy about it -- but instead she held her ground, eyes locked on the Reaper.

The pillars groaned and vibrated as they toppled over each other and fought to be the first to land directly on Eve's head, smaller rocks water-falling down onto her in a dusty shower.

But she didn't feel anything.

A larger rock would have collided with her shoulder, surely pushing her off her balance with such notable momentum.

But, again, she didn't feel anything.

By the time the ceiling had thoroughly "fallen" on her, she was smirking. The debris cut through her legs as torso, making it seem as if the scenery had somehow eaten her where she stood, but not a single hair was out of place her her head.

"Ah, so we're playing games here," she asked with a tilt of her head. "Dunno why you'd reveal your hand to me so early, but..."

From behind her mask she winced. Her heart thundered in her chest as the Inner Hollow grew restless. The girl within barked out her desire to stop the chitchat and pushed against Eve's soul.

Some words passed Evelynn's lips, not too dissimilar to the style of the previous incantation. Longer, and a little too dramatic for Eve's taste, but if Jezebel wanted to get pushed to the test, what better way?

"...Fill with soil and know you're own powerlessness." Her words grew louder the further she got into the chant before finally she belted out the release. "Hadou number 90! Kurohitsugi"

From the ground around Hazuki's feet erupted black teeth that raised up over her hand and blocked out the sunlight that had so happily shone down on her. The spell burned at the corners and tightened in on Hazuki with no sign of retreat.

The last thing Hazuki saw was Eve's mask starting to crumble off her face.

Post by Hazunyan on May 20, 2017 17:22:04 GMT -5

It appeared Hazuki’s opponent had realized there was something off about the throne room in which they found themselves; without so much as a flinch the massive slabs of masonry almost seemed to bounce off her, shattering with deep thuds on the ground, leaving deep cracks in the stone floor. The half-breed seemed impervious, but that was only to be expected. The moment Hazuki had unleashed her Zanpakutō’s final form this had become far more than a figurative clash of wills. The arena they found themselves in was window dressing, decoration. It was context. There was something higher at work here.

She was halfway through contemplating the irony of Avana’s comment about Hazuki’s eyes—she had her father’s eyes, after all, and her father had been famous for a great many things, not least of which had been obliterating a number of Espada—when her opponent stepped forward, muttering something Hazuki couldn’t quite hear. She strained her ears but the tide of spiritual energy that surged in the space between them was enough to make her stop trying; she recognized it as Kidō, something high-level. More than that she couldn’t say for sure—her own expertise in the field was nonexistent, her exposure limited mostly to Academy lessons and sparring sessions. She knew most of the spells by name and a rough idea of how they presented themselves but had no interest in becoming proficient in something that was so far removed from the grace of the blade.

In the end, it was the bounding square that gave it away: that split-second recognition of the unmistakeable color, the sensation, that preceded the Black Coffin, and the lifetime of combat training stirred to life. Any other time, any other place, she might have tried to make for the edges and brute-force her way through, but another solution presented itself as her eyes flicked to the cracks in the floor just behind the half-breed.

She flipped her sword, the impossibly keen edge swishing in the air as she inverted her grip, and brought it up, up, up—

and then down.

The walls around her shot up as the tip of her blade hit the ground. She may as well have dropped the moon on it, such was the force of the blow. Like something celestial impacting it, the point didn’t slice into the floor so much as shatter it entirely, and an instant later Hazuki was in free fall, the awkward sensation of downward acceleration in the pit of her stomach accompanying her descent into the twinkling void beneath the eggshell floor of the Las Noches throne room. Above her, the Hadō had finished casting—Hazuki had barely been able to make out the strangely garbled half-breed voice shouting the last lines of the incantation over the noise—and her dive slowed rapidly until finally she was falling upward toward the spell’s gravity well. The debris around her seemed unaffected, quickly dropping out of view as the rest of the floor above crumbled, piecemeal, into the darkness below.

The Coffin delivered its final blow—the ponderous spikes retracting violently, shredding whatever remained inside but not before one of them clipped Hazuki’s flank, gouging a hole in her uniform and leaving something that was halfway between a burn and a cut just above her left hip. She winced—more irritation at not getting away clean than actual pain—and then the Hadō flickered and vanished, leaving Hazuki Tsukimiya and Evelynn Avana suspended mid-air.

And just as suddenly, they landed landed feet-first in ankle-deep water, the throne room—crumbling floor and all—a mere memory from moments ago. In its place remained nothing but the sky, much darker now and stained blood red along the edge of the horizon far away in the distance. The Evening Redness in the West, thought Hazuki, who was already on the move. She pulled one foot free of the water and stepped up onto its surface as easily as one might step onto a stage, and then she was running at full tilt toward her opponent—each stride making a small splash—with her sword held low and to the left, already swinging up, up, up in a large arc that carved through the water and sand underneath as if it weren’t even there. Grip firm, and with an an edge so sharp Hazuki could have used it to cut the ruddy light of the sunset itself if she wanted to, she aimed to claim both the initiative and her opponent’s arm in one fell swoop.

A game, she had called it. Hazuki couldn’t disagree.

But trial of chance or trial of worth all games aspire to the condition of war, she recited in her head, for here that which is wagered swallows up game, player, all.

Post by Eve Avana on May 30, 2017 21:41:47 GMT -5

Some light momentarily flickered off the blade of Hazuki's katana just as the last of the puzzle pieces locked together. The thunderous roar that shook the ground was muffled by the sound of glass shattering. From all around the edges of the giant cube, black lines webbed out and split apart. Soon the world itself caved beneath the coffin as if it were nothing more than a mirror that had been punched straight on. Shards of the floor and the walls fell into darkness, taking with them Hazuki herself and, eventually, Eve.

For that brief moment, the two of them hung in the darkness. Their clothes swayed around them and their hair started to pull upwards. Their eyes locked and, for once, Eve inhaled as if to attack, hand gripping her staff all the tighter.

What are you doing? Samyaza's voice broke the tense silence.

And then the world snapped back together. The stray fragments of the mirrors snapped back together and formed a new image. The sound of water and the salty breeze decorated the illusion with surprising accuracy. Even the way the water sloshed against their ankles and strained to push against their weight seemed all too real. In the distance, wispy clouds hung around the blood stained horizon, but above them loomed large, fluffy clouds that shimmered an off grey color in the midday sunlight.

Eve did not raise herself onto the water as Hazuki did. Instead, she continued with what she had planned.

The symbols on her staff burned as if they were set ablaze as she raised it before her. The water parted from the force of Hazuki's strike only to be willed back inward with a force. Sharpened into some form of metal, the rippling water clashed against the sword and fought to wring it away from the grasp of the Shinigami. But, of course, it did not. Maybe it slowed the strike to some degree, or maybe it had made it land just a hair off the initial target, but that hardly even mattered.

She couldn't help but scream and jerk backwards as she raised a bloodied stump towards her chest protectively. The water splashed and pulled away from the severed forearm that clamored to the ground unceremoniously. Beside the lifeless fingers lay her staff, the markings still glowing eagerly as they awaited their command.

Around them, a cocoon of sharpened points aimed towards where Hazuki's sword had once been, frozen in time as they waited for a sign to strike. Instead, the shuddered once and then collapsed to the ground, returning to the liquid state they had originally been.

Eve winced and grabbed at her bleeding stump, tears building at the corner of her eyes, but never quite falling. Thick, grimy clumps of blood splashed against the gentle tide, sending crimson rippled around the two of them.

"Toying with me?" Eve snapped when the silence finally ate away at her patience. "Why don't you just get it over with? You had the decency to off Kionchi on the spot!" She barked between grit teeth. "There isn't even anyone to see you do this. So get it over with!"

Hey, what if you-- Jezebel began with a sly tone.No, shut up, Samyaza interrupted.If Hazuki won't do it, might as well take it into our own--Stop it!

Eve's features relaxed at the revelation. Even a little smirk formed in that moment as she gathered her strength and let her shoulders fall forward. Slowly, she slumped forward and let her chin hang, as if defeated. Her hair, messy and the tips of her bangs stained the color red, fell before her and hid away her eyes. Somewhere in her head, something snapped. A physical crack that hummed from the base of her skull as she twitched her chin to the right suddenly. Her chest heaved as air was forced through her nose in a strained laugh.

Yeah, that would be one way to go, wouldn't it? She thought mostly to herself, but made it a point for the other parts of her soul to hear. When had she ever actually put her best foot forward, after all? When had she done what she wanted? Always bending to someone else's opinion. Always tucking her tail and licking the muzzle of those who protected her. What kind of Arrancar was she deep inside? A bad one, she decided in that moment.

Ahaha, she's actually going to do it! Jezebel picked up on the thoughts first, amusement lacing her tone.Holy shit, Eve, are you insane?! Samyaza gasped, awestruck and baffled.

Eve tilted her head back just enough for the shadows to creep away from her eyes and let her look at Hazuki one last time. There was a second of silence -- of peace -- that filled Eve's once empty stare. And then, it was all washed away.

"Hadō Number Ninety-Six," she said so softly that the tides around them almost drowned it out. The blood the oozed from the stump just before her elbow sizzled and crackled, filling the air with a nose scrunching odor. Soon, bubbles grew and popped, splattering blood in all directions and coating Eve's robes with the half-baked body fluids. More and more bubbles formed as her blood reached a boil. Her veins burned against her flesh, illuminating her flesh, bones and muscles as the blood seemed to turn to lava.

From her arm, the trail of lava filled her entire body. Veins burst and oozed from under her flesh as the sheer force of the spell wrecked havoc over her body and began to tear her apart from the inside out. Her stump no longer bled, the flesh cauterized, but the smell of charred flesh only grew more poignant.

"Ittō Kasō," the call for strength was more of a whimper. Her body grew dark and flaky, as if a strong breeze would pull off her flesh. From beneath the ashen skin were veins of lava that spread across every inch of her body.

Around her, the water almost instantly erupted into steam that coated the surrounding area in a thick blanket of mist. Even the two combatants, each within arm's reach of the other, could only make out a vague outline of their target. Not that anyone was playing hide and seek at this point.

Eve lurched forward as flakes of her burnt skin were torn away, leaving nothing but charred flesh and bones visible as she reached out to Hazuki. Illusion or otherwise, Hazuki had proven they could both get hurt. If this is what it took, then so be it. She never actually touched Hazuki -- maybe the tips of her fingers brushed against the collar of the girl's Shihakushō -- but it didn't really matter. Consuming the entire area was nothing more than the flames of hell brought forth by the sacrifice of not just Eve's body, but her entire soul.

She could have stood still; most people would have given the unbearable pain that splintered the soul and formed the spell. But not her. Even as the muscles started to chip away and the bones turned black with char, she moved. Something inside of her pushed her forward and towards Hazuki. All of her life had been running away, blaming others, doing things just enough to get by. Her vision was gone, the feeling of pain a quickly fading memory, and yet she pushed onward.

The torrent of flames burned in the shape of a katana blade that pierced the sky and shattered the ground around them. From the base of it blasted a cool mist from the water that had dared to touch such hot flames. From within the attack, the world was nothing more than a whitewashed inferno.

Post by Hazunyan on Jun 1, 2017 11:07:38 GMT -5

Sakurazuki sheared through flesh and bone with a sharp and satisfying sound, and all the fight in Hazuki’s opponent seemed to go out of her. Even her counterattack wavered for a moment and then crumbled, the weaponized water returning to its placid state. Disarmed—in more than one way—Avana’s struggle seemed to seep out of her along with the gushing stream of blood staining the water red at her feet.

She was wrong, of course. Hazuki wasn’t toying with her at all. She was simply being methodical. The rat had died instantly because he was an arrogant and inept fool but Avana was struggling to accept her fate, her natural tenacity not allowing her to roll over and simply die without incident as her hapless underling had done. Perhaps it was her status, perhaps she was expecting someone else to come to her aid once again. Either way, it didn’t matter. Queen or not, it meant nothing to Hazuki, and within the confines of her Bankai no help would ever arrive. She was alone in here, and the only escape was death. She would become intimately familiar with that in due time. Hazuki had passed judgement and was carrying out the sentence.

There was something in Avana’s eyes when she looked up, however, that raised the hairs on the back of Hazuki’s neck. She had seen that very same look on Jasper Aizawa before he had succumbed to his inner monster: resignation and a bizarre twist on harmony. A menacing sort of serenity. That she alone knew what was going to happen next because it was going to happen on her terms, no matter what her opponent did.

Hazuki bristled, more out of reflex than anything else. She had felt real fear when Aizawa had turned; a primal, instinctive fear of death that had overridden every other emotion because Hazuki had been without an answer, without a friend in the silent blade in her hands.

Her sword was no longer silent, however. She had an answer. Now and forever, Sakurazuki would be by her side, and together they were strong, stronger than whatever Avana could throw at them out of sheer desperation. Jasper Aizawa had been the monster at the end of that dream. Now, however, Hazuki was the monster.

But a woman with nothing left to lose was a dangerous woman. And Hazuki had just about taken everything from her opponent at this point, which meant that whatever came next would be her attempt at ending it. A final strike from a cornered snake.

Like clockwork, it came. A distant whisper of power that grew into an earth-shattering roar, accompanied by the smell of burnt flesh and hiss of steam. Avana glowed, her body exuding the same ruddiness that the dying sunlight offered, draining it, stealing it, until her smoldering body was the only source of light, and all around them was the inky blackness of a starless night far from civilization. A desert, the ocean, empty plains—they could just as well have been on the dark side of the moon. The two of them, all alone, enveloped in a growing cloud of scalding vapor in the moments before the half-breed detonated. If either one moved, the other couldn’t see it, but just as the queen of Las Noches staggered toward her judicator, Hazuki was bracing for what she knew would come. Her sword pierced the ground—not to break it this time, but for stability—and she took refuge behind it, crouching to shield herself from the brunt of the impending explosion.

Hazuki had never seen Ittō Kasō being invoked—quite unlike the Black Coffin it was classified as forbidden—and had it been cast outside of the dream it would have been only one of several problems. Steam carried more energy than hot water and had a habit of inflicting particularly nasty burns, and the surrounding water had all boiled simultaneously; the sand beneath it had fused into glass from the heat of the detonation and was flung outwards like shrapnel. But just as the heavy masonry had bounced harmlessly off Avana’s head earlier, the dream couldn’t hurt them. In here, they were not a product of their environment—their environment was a product of them.

The steam was warm, uncomfortably so, but did not burn them. The lances of glass that were flung in every direction ricocheted harmlessly off Hazuki’s body. The red flame of the forbidden Hadō, however, was far less trivial. It seared the very air, sucking it from Hazuki’s lungs and leaving her breathless, scorched her uniform and the steel Public Safety emblem at her waist despite the blade of her Zanpakutō protecting her from the majority of the blast. Once again, her hair was singed and her unprotected knuckles gripping Sakurazuki’s hilt were scalded, the force of the explosion tearing away enough skin to expose bone and sinew underneath. Had she been able to breathe, Hazuki might have gasped in pain, but she couldn’t utter a sound in the face of the cacophony of fire and pandemonium that engulfed the dreamscape.

The moment stretched on and on for what seemed like an eternity, and then—as suddenly as it had begun—it was over. The fire abated, and an eerie calm replaced the clamor. Only the steam persisted, and soon enough it started to condense in the rapidly cooling air, a moist sheen settling on everything.

Hazuki rose to her feet tentatively, pulling her sword from the damp sand with a sound halfway between a squelch and a rasp, and she probed the absolute darkness with her sixth sense. Above her, a crescent moon silently formed, waxing quickly until it reached fullness, a soft pink glow shining down on the surroundings. All that remained of the half-breed was a smoldering husk, charred and wet, vaguely humanoid in shape but still, apparently, alive. It reminded Hazuki of photos she had seen of bodies pulled out of the remains of burning houses. Burned beyond recognition by the fire, and drenched by the firefighters combating the flames. Hazuki turned away from the sight, but wasn’t sure if it was out of respect or disgust.

She raised one burned hand to her neck to feel her pulse out of reflex, oddly comforted by the fact that she appeared to be dead. Her heart never beat in her dreams. It seemed, almost, to anchor her. When she finally glanced back at the body, it was gone.

‘The sentence is death,’ she murmured softly to herself.

She remained still for a few minutes, the water slowly rising around her feet and a slight chill ran through her. The burns were painful, she smelled of smoke and burned hair, but beyond that she was content. She had accomplished what she had come here to do. If Sakurazuki had anything to say, she kept it to herself; the Zanpakutō spirit was nowhere to be seen and Hazuki welcomed the solitude. Would her parents have been proud of what she had done? Her mentor? Her aunt and uncle? There was no real way of knowing, she supposed. She closed her eyes—

her heart started beating

—and she opened them again. She was back in the throne room, clothes dry apart from a light spattering of blood from when she had bifurcated the idiot. The cut on her flank stung as it tore through the black fabric, her hands were agony as the skin flaked away from her knuckles, but it was nothing compared to seeing the unmitigated suffering on Avana’s face as her entire body—minus the arm that fell unceremoniously to the floor, spurting blood—shriveled into a charred husk in an instant. A battle of wills in which Avana, despite her greatest efforts, had been unable to triumph. And now Hueco Mundo found itself once again without a leader, waiting for the next Hollow-breed to take charge and lead it straight towards ruin. The cycle continued.

She didn’t bother with first aid—there would be plenty of time for that once she returned to Seireitei—but collected the heads of those judged and found wanting (noting, with some distaste, that identifying Avana’s would be difficult). In the end, all she left behind were two headless corpses in varied states of dismemberment: one torso covered in photographs, lying in a pool of blood some meters from the legs that belonged to it; and one charred heap of blackened skin and bones, still smoking, next to a pristine severed arm.

The message, she hoped, was clear.

°1,427

THREAD END

There is no nation of you, there is no nation of meOur only nation lives in lucid dreamsLucid dreams, I’m livin’ in lucid dreamsI’m livin’ on shortwave streams tonight

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